In gentle darkness
by fadinginthemist
Summary: At the edge of the world, a boy was standing, his head downcast and his eyes hidden. Behind him something vile and inhuman was snarling viciously; a construct of hate.
1. Chapter 1

"At the edge of the world, a boy was standing, his head downcast and his eyes hidden. Behind him something vile and inhuman was snarling viciously; a construct of hate.

- My feet are wet. The boy said in his innocence.

- It is blood.

The boy looked up and there were cracks in his eyes, fine and dense like arteries.

- Are you lying? He asked in a voice that seemed distant even to his own ears.

- No.

The boy stared at the vast sea of blood that stood tranquilly under his feet and took a step towards madness. "

**Prologue**

The boy was five. He knew so because his aunt and uncle would always curse and whine on the day of his arrival every year. It was dark and something was following him. He stopped and his small feet felt heavy.

- Are you going to kill me? The boy asked and in his voice there was wonder.

Alexander stopped. His eyes scanned the human childe, if this would be his meal, it would have little to no nutritional value, but such a small thing showed no fear for a creature of darkness even though he intuitively knew the danger. He was intrigued.

- Who are you, childe?

- I am freak.

His green eyes glowed eerily.

- Who are you, Sir vampire? Or am I so unimportant that you deem me not worthy of such knowledge.

Alexander blinked. It was as though an old man was crammed into his small body, making him seem even more frail and close to death. He was reminded of things he wished long forgotten. And that gave him pause. It would be such a pity to waste such an interesting creature with a high potential of elevating boredom.

- Sir vampire, when you grin, your fangs glint in the moonlight. They could frighten you next victim.

The child's went back to childish and innocent with a touch of wonder. Like two persons trapped in a small, weak body. And what exquisite transformation, Alexander thought; the child's thumb went into his mouth to match that guiltlessness. A waste indeed.

- I am Alexander III. I will let you live, if you will come when beckoned.

Alexander let another grin betray him. The boy stared. His eyes bled like liquid silver.

- I am at your disposal, Sir Alexander.


	2. The drowning- part one

**The drowning –part one**

"**Madness, child of chaos, as you lay upon this human child, be aware, it was not a sense of kinship that instilled your desperation to reach him, it was lust for the great power he yields."**

Life was gently flowing in its stream and he was no longer boy, freak or useless, he was Harry and standing in the middle of Knockturn Alley. Existence was indeed beautiful.

He supposed he should thank his guardian vampire for many different things, like books, decent meals and bedding and the delicious pleasure of watching his blood relatives squirm like disgusting little termites; he often thought they would make excellent vermin and wondered about the magicks involved in demonstrating that to dear old Petunia and simple-minded Vernon. Well, he was patient, he learned the hard way from an eccentric vampire, then again, he was only human, a special one, but when asked he could blame his faults on that little fact.

- You filthy vagabond, how dare you disappear from my sight? I have told Master many times, your kind is not to be trusted or aided, but he is such a child sometimes, trapped in the inability to distinguish between reality and the wishes he hold for the world.

- Hello again, Philip. Are you truly an elf? I have read they display more of a humble behavior and have a very limited vocabulary. You must be one of those who shame them.

- Wretched tramp! Stop showing your teeth and make haste, I do have better things to attend to than your pathetic, wizardly needs!

Harry truly believed he was the only elf that could express distaste in a dignified manner and not look unnatural. He supposed in many ways Alexander was behaving like a bloody raven, colleting anything that was unusual and Philip fit that pattern quite well, an elf with the personality of a disgruntled librarian and the knowledge of a seer.

- Philip, I thought it is in your nature to care, especially when told by your master, what sort of an elf are you? Or maybe you have goblin blood in you. I wonder if muto* Rekubg, would know, being the bounded of an g''b'n uv gu'm'tk'**.

- Vmaal Nyirecw***! Remember your place! You may be indeed tolerated by Alexander but other than that, you are an orphan with little value, and, fortunately, your foul conduct is soon to lead to death.

- You never were one to tell a lie, Philip, but you are the sort to give underhanded warnings. Are you saying I should study more about goblin customs before speaking of their race in public?

The elf snarled, and fastened his pace. Harry enjoyed seeing him aggravated. There were many things he was unsure of, but he knew a something with certainty, when an elf is bound to someone, he cannot help doing the wishes of his master. Philip was to keep him safe and that gave Harry much room for mischief.

They stopped at number 13B, it read Borgin & Burkes. It looked, even from the outside, like the sort of place where, if you decided to die in a dramatic fashion, your corpse would fit in spectacularly or even go unnoticed.

The air inside was still and coated with dust, like thousands of hawkmoths had spread their poison unawares. Harry sometimes heard floating, hard, dark whispers or the tired flutter of an ancient book, and felt like something dangerous was discreetly slithering through dirty selves, poking at dragon tongues, and human eyes, and strange animal fetuses with deformed limbs and gleaming teeth. His hands were itching. It resembled the cupboard under the stairs, only more grand, poetic and mysterious. It felt like discovering the evil mastermind's lair: impossible to resist causing some mayhem or creating a monster-hybrid of some sort.

- Mister Borgin.

Philip said, lowering his voice, very much like a cat that lowers its body in the attempt to soothe its pray before tearing it to pieces. It felt as though something important would take place.

- This is my protégé, Master James, he is to begin his… let us say, informal education.

Philip smiled darkly and Harry thought that expression looked rather uncanny on his face, but, then again, they were in a disguise of sorts. Muto Rekubg showed him how some goblin runes worked. Uunnu okuk', or how it translated "aura visage" made someone appearance change to match the expectation of the beholder, like an echo of everyone's view, but if you were aware of its existence, it lost its power. Or that is what Harry understood from Muto Rekubg. His goblin was not the best and they always found it amusing to confuse him.

Whatever the Uunnu okuk' rune made Mister Borgin see in Philip, made him jittery, fearful.

- I wish to see Mister Caractacus Burke.

- Ca-ca-ca-Caractacus Burke has not been seen for a very long time. He is…He has disappeared!

- Mister Borgin, I was sent by the Macedonian prince, he wishes to collect his debt.

There was something in that sentence that called for nothing but silent acceptance. Mister Borgin stared for a long time transfixed, suspended in some sort of memory, and in the same daze, he handed them a medallion.

- Just say his name. Borgin instructed.

- Came here, tramp! There is no time to waste!

And even before Harry moved he was grabbed by Philip, Caractacus Burke was shouted and they disappeared.

Mister Borgin kept staring at the place they stood last. He blinked slowly one time, two times, three times, four times, and the mist in his eyes kept becoming clearer and clearer and clearer and clearer until it was no more. He found himself staring at a spot on the floor. He did that sometimes, woke up in the middle of his shop with little memory of how he had gotten there. No one was to know, insanity never did good for business and his pompous, skrewt-brained customers would surely find a way to take the little he had! People were not trustworthy!

*Lady (goblin)

** Holder of knowledge (goblin)

*** Green child (elvish)


	3. The drowning- part two

**"Thou are hollow, human, and the void that inhabits thy veins and circles thy cavernous eyes commands your overzealous heart to mutilate whatever that has the grace to fill thou. I believe that is titled humorous." **

They were in a room full of strange, flying creatures. Their laugh was shrill and strangely vulgar, mocking even, like the ritual of hypocrite clergymen. Harry thought they resembled doxies but looked like little, little winged men and women with big, sapphire eyes and glistening skin. They floated like feathers, like leaves and snowflakes, effortlessly, elegantly, relaxed, in a manner that so opposed their nature and it was almost hypnotic, like seeing a waterfall for the first time. - Stop it. They are guests. The creatures stopped moving in synchrony at the sound of a rusty voice. They all gave frightful grins and flew away like startled birds. - Forgive me, but after you not coming at the appointed hour, I assumed you do not wish to meet. - I apologize, Lord Burke. - House elf, how am I supposed to believe in any apology when you are still wearing that thing that is believed to hide your nature from view?

If there was any way for elves to blush, this was it. Philip hastily removed both their runes and apologized yet again. He was humble and subdued. Harry held the belief that the man in front of him resembled an ancient tree, hunchbacked and ugly beyond belief, with scarred skin and fallen features, yet, there was something about him, something hidden and commanding. He was intrigued.

- Elf, is this boy to be my apprentice?

Mister Burke asked without looking at Harry, even as the boy searched his stare, the vastness of his grey eyes kept expanding and contracting with the accuracy of a timepiece.

- What were those creatures doing? Interrupted Harry's voice.

The emptiness that followed was tinged with an omen of sorts, heavy and dark. The old man inspected Harry and his eyes widened fractionally and something changed in the way he carried himself. Potter felt as though he was now dealing with a jovial archfiend and his grin made his insides tremble slightly.

- Elf, I have decided, this will be my apprentice either way. Tell your youngster he should stop trying to steal everything that seems glistening and interesting. Dangerous things happen.

- Master does not steal! He is honorable even though a narcissistic egoist!

The old man ignored the elf. He had done talking with it. He turned around and started walking. Harry felt the immediate need to follow, his body felt like liquid, molding to the wishes of an unseen master. His feet kept walking even as his teeth kept grinding in anger.

- Child, I do not know your name, but I will refer to you as Cassius* and at all times you shall refer me as Master. Your first task is to open the door before you so you may enter the inside the chamber of knowledge.

While saying so, Burke pointed at a massive wooden door that Harry thought resembled a fallen giant, holding its strength despite its state.

- Why Cassius?

The question was met with a stare that pierced his being like a spear of darkness. His flesh suddenly stood taunt and ready, his dull eyes unexpectedly throbbed with tension and his hands clenched and unclenched regardless of Harry's wishes. No, Cassius wishes. He was Cassius and he was talking with a Master, his Master.

-I apologize, Master.

His head bowed. Cassius recognized power it was one of the few things he respected. The silence stretched.

- Because it perfectly depicts your current state, even if you are unaware of that currently. Make haste Cassius, old man like me get impetuous in the strangest of moments and become intolerant of time-wasting humanlings.

There was a rustle of fabric and his Master was gone. Harry let his body relax and it fell on the ground like a stringless marionette. He felt foolish and young for the first time in a long time.

*Cassius- empty, hollow.


	4. Completely submerged

**"Thy eyes have altered. Something terrifying lurks now in thy depths, relentlessly scraping for flaws in the chains that enclose it. Beware, child, for its resolve is stronger than thou..."**

Harry had a tiny fissure in his right hand; it was glowing faintly. Something vile had to be beneath his crust, something repugnant that was trying to escape from himself. It was almost funny how much he craved to viciously tear the membrane that encased him and let the poison slowly, gently, quietly drip from his weary muscles.

It was repulsive how his insides trembled and whimpered ever so softly...

He was tired.

His mouth tasted like regurgitated blood, like tiny fragments of human flesh and bone...

He was so tired...

Darkness has risen and purged the wholeness of its grief within him as though he was its rightful vessel...

He was tired and unable to give in to slumber.

His treacherous carcass did not reject obscurity.

If only sleep tore away his mind...

He was on his knees. A person shattered before him like glass. Its blood was warm. It was the closest one. The others melted into scarlet foam. Wizards, sad and happy, old and younger, kind and grumpy, carrying wishes for the future, carrying their past like a burden or like a blessing, wizards sprouting feelings for others, wizards able to shape the world around them, human beings, were now nothing. There was something in that feeling of helplessness that made Harry faint.

He choked a sob and wondered. He thought that maybe, if he could push his thumbs far enough into his orbits, then, maybe, just maybe, he could erase the presence of filth from his mind. That idea echoed and he breathed into it like a newborn. There was even something poetic in that.

That was good, that a decision was made. He was too tired to make another.

Something frantic was to his right. Harry could not see. Harry could FEEL. His body fell forward and his arms did nothing to stop his fall. The earth reeked of blood and terror.

He was a powerless. He could not even bury his fingers in his eyes when he decided to do so.

WEAK!

A wasted form of carbon and magik. A freak and a fiend.

His crumbled body was pushed towards the skies. How strange. They were clear and azure and velvety. Not a care for the abomination that carried itself beneath them. Untouchable.

His Master was shouting. Hi face dissolved into such a strange expression, that Harry felt like forcing a smile. Hush little Caractacus, hush!

Alexander was still. Harry could feel his presence. The Prince was never still, always an entangled mass of emotions. Never still. That fact burned.

Harry wished the darkness would come back and drag him with it.


End file.
